So I figured out how to make a business of what I love to do.
I've always been slightly worried by that concept, because I've always worried that making a business from what I love may destroy my love for it.<…snip…>
I've known people who lost their love for what was their passion, making music, and it's sad.
It becomes a job, and as a job, it has its disadvantages. It's unstable, no sick leave or paid holidays, no health insurance, no overtime pay, and you have to pay 15% self-employment tax in addition to your income tax.
I almost made the big time once, but the record company wanted to exploit us. The band broke up, I got a day-job with bennies, and found out I wasn't happy being normal — back to music for me.
Money? It's not dependable, but I made enough to make ends meet and pay off the mortgage. I don't have luxury items, but don't have a desire for them.
Plus I have to schlep my own gear. But I get to lift heavy things without paying for a gym membership.
But when I'm up there, performing for an appreciative audience, I get into that zone where there is no space, no time, no words, no me, and nothing but the music which seems like it's flowing through me instead of from me and the energy from the crowd returning. It's the most fun I can have with my clothes on.
One day, decades ago, I met a beautiful girl who was playing in another band. She is a great singer and she also plays guitar and synth. Both our bands broke up, and we found ourselves in the same fledgling band.
I eventually married her, and now, we are in a self-sufficient
duo. Since I play drums, bass, guitar, keys, flute, guitar and sax, I make our backing tracks.
When we get on stage, we share the bliss of performing, and it's the most fun we can have with our clothes on.
I'm not rich in money, but rich in experiences, and I feel like I'm living a charmed life.